As I continue my boycott of the Mets, I'm starting to wonder whether I've legitimately lost my mind. As many a baseball fan are, I am quite the superstitious type when it comes to my teams. When the Red Sox made their epic run in 2004, I wore an old basketball tournament t-shirt with a mexican eggs stain on it, shorts with a hole and played Trick Daddy's "Let's Go" for every game from Game 4 of the ALCS through their sweep of the Cards a week later. But the last few days are starting to creep me out.
The Mets have put on an offensive explosion over the past week when I haven't been watching but when I step out to see if they can put their foot on their opponents throat, the usual foul-out at 3rd arrives with me. It all came to a head last night as I watched the bottom of the 9th to see if the Mets could finish the Phils and take 3 of 4 from the Phags. I watched with my mouth agape as the Phillies put 2 on and then Beltran's throw sail past 3rd and all of a sudden the horror of the 4-game sweep last August came rushing back. My friend in Oklahoma said it best at that moment "If they lose this game, I'm not watching them again this season." Luckily, Wagner was able to get Jayson "My facial hair is gayer than Scott Spiezio's" Werth to fly out to Endy to end the game and I proceeded to pant for 2 minutes afterwards.
I know its ridiculous to think that I have a reverse King Midas touch on this team and that the actions of one individual out of millions of fans would change a game, but this is starting to get weird. But that's why we become die-hards in the first place, because we believe we jackasses can have an effect on the game because of some stupid we're doing thousands of miles away.
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